


No One Better

by Randominity



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Comment Fic, Doppelganger, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-cest, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randominity/pseuds/Randominity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis hopes the other boys are having easier times taking care of their younger selves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Better

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a completely out-of-context bit of self-cest time travel comment fic pitting 2011!Louis against his present-day self. Originally posted to LJ and Tumblr.

"Shit, but you’ve got a  _lot_."  
  
Louis frowns down at his forearm and shrugs, tracing over the paths his younger self is making as he pokes at the assortment of tattoos. He - the younger version of him, the one who’s sat with his legs folded across from Louis on his hotel bed - has been at this for a while, now, digging his fingers into Louis’ skin and asking pointed questions about every inked mark. (" _Why_ ," he’d said plaintively at the match, but then added “oh, but that’s sick," upon seeing the bomb. Louis isn’t giving anything away. Spoilers.) “Doesn’t it  _hurt_? Did you get them all at once?"  
  
"It’s not that bad," Louis tells him, “and it’s been like, a year, getting bits and pieces at different times. You sort of get used to it."  
  
"What else have you got?" His younger self drops his arm and lifts his gaze to Louis’ vest, and the text across his collarbones, squinting. “Did you get anything pierced?" His voice drops. “Am I gonna  _want_  to get anything pierced?" Louis grins at that, even when the younger version of him clicks his fingers, saying, “up, off with the vest, I wanna see."  
  
"Nothing’s pierced," he assures him, lifting off his vest. “Can you  _imagine_?" he cringes, and his younger self nods in familiarity at the sentiment. “But I’m not gonna say never to anything anymore. Loads of things have changed."  
  
The boy version of him - who Louis is dismayed to admit is exactly the same height as he is, has exactly the same shoe size, exactly the same hand size, and exactly the same sized cock, because they had wasted no time checking the important details when they’d got back to his hotel room to hide out and wait for this… whatever to end - huffs a sigh and slouches like a determined toddler, but he rakes his gaze over Louis’ chest appreciatively.  
  
Louis remembers the day this version of him is living, the radio interview and the photoshoot outside by the fountain, when he’d jumped onto the statues and nearly given Paul, and Liam, heart attacks. He’s got a huge gap in his fringe from all the activity, and from the way he’d staggered back into his Harry when the five of One Direction’s younger selves walked into their suite and saw five older, worldlier men staring back at them.  
  
There had been a lot of confusion (Zayn and Niall and Liam, both versions), a lot of running back and forth over the threshhold to see if it was a portal both ways (Harry and Louis, new versions), and some breathing into a paper bag (Liam and Louis, old versions), and now the old him’s scoop necked shirt is rumpled and creased and hanging nearly entirely off his shoulder. Louis hopes the other boys are having easier times taking care of their younger selves. At least his hadn’t cried; Harry when he was younger had been fairly leaky.  
  
This version of him does looks tired, though, the thin skin under his eyes starting to darken into bruises, and he raises his hands to place them each on Louis’ pecs. “I’ve got massive," he murmurs.  
  
Louis smirks at that, because right, not  _exactly_ , but his old self (Mark I of him, he thinks he’ll call him. It sounds like something Tony Stark would call his past self) releases him to tug off his own top and Louis sees what he means. He hasn’t spent a lot of time working on his body this tour, but Mark I is - back then he was - so much softer. Louis can see the narrow, still sparse spread of his chest hair between his pecs, how bare his nipples still are, just a few curls poking up to meet his collarbones. Mark I’s stomach is smooth above the navel and if he sucks his stomach in - the swell of it so familiar now - Louis knows he won’t see the ridges of muscle he has now, the definition that lies just under the surface.  
  
Mark I puts his hands back up over Louis’ chest and then slides his hands out to curl his grip over Louis’ biceps. “I mean,  _shit_ ," he breathes, squeezing them, digging his fingers into the deer; Louis can’t help but preen under his attention, getting flush and just a little bit hard in his jean shorts. And the thing is, he can see the pink in Mark I’s cheeks and he knows how Mark I feels. He can appreciate this, the excitement of seeing a fit boy’s body and being given permission to touch. He knows Mark I’s getting just as hard as he is, because Louis would have.

He knows, too, what Mark I’s thinking, when he gets a serious look on his face, staring hard at Louis’ biceps. He rubs his hand up and over Louis’ shoulder, down over his pec and pushes his thumb into Louis’ nipple, which they both know will make it pucker up straight away. “Oh, what the hell," Louis says, and lurches forward to capture Mark I’s lips between his own, because he knows Mark I won’t ask. Mark I would be wondering, Louis knows, if Louis’s ever done the things Mark I only lets himself think about, and Louis won’t give that away, but he won’t let this version of himself be too scared to feel a bit of bliss if he can help it.  
  
Mark I is the best kisser Louis’ ever kissed for the first time, which is both expected and hilarious to Louis. He starts off exactly the way Louis would, and kisses with exactly the same precision, and hits exactly the same beats and opens his mouth exactly the right amount for Louis to slip his tongue inside and curl it under his thin upper lip. Mark I shudders and curls one hand into a fist against Louis’ chest, and Louis reaches up and smooths a hand over Mark I’s fringe, brushing it high off his forehead so he can feel the scalp beneath his part against his thumb. He strokes the heated skin there as he licks into Mark I’s mouth, leading and making Mark I tilt his head back to take it; and Mark I does, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes close.  
  
Louis holds him there with his other hand, cupping Mark I’s jaw, and he’s surprised enough to suck in a breath when he feels the softness there, despite Mark I’s stubble. There are still gaps in the line of hair at Mark I’s jawline, patches of skin that are baby smooth, and Louis runs his fingers over them over and over until Mark I gives a frustrated whine and slips his hands between them to fumble at Louis’ flies. Louis lets him, releases him and lies back as Mark I works, his fringe pushed high up and wrecked, bunched together with product and a day’s worth of humidity-induced sweat. “I’ve always wanted to," Mark I says, biting his lip around a stifled smile as he looks at the line of Louis’ cock in his pants. He runs his fingers shyly up and down the fine line of hair that’s growing up from Louis’ navel, working its way toward his patch of chest hair; body hair that Mark I hasn’t got yet.  
  
"Who wouldn’t?" Louis asks, because of course, he knows, and he catches himself on the silly wish that he could feel it both ways; giving and receiving, the same cock to the same mouth. “Are you sure?" he asks, then, once he’s shifted his hips up so that Mark I can pull down his pants. He wants this, his foreskin rolling back before a drop of pre-come that slides down the head of his cock to catch on the rim, but his will be the first cock Mark I has ever sucked.  _Spoilers_ , he thinks, a bit frantically.  _Practice_ , he lets himself think, after that.  
  
"Who better to give you a blowjob?" Mark I asks with a shrug, but his voice wavers when he does, and then he’s ducking his head and taking Louis in hand with more confidence than his voice would indicate. He licks a circle around the head of Louis’ cock, tasting him, and Louis hisses under the touch of his own tongue, unbearably turned on by the thought of being his first, of giving this to himself. Mark I pulls off and curls his lip at him before hiccupping a giggle. “You should see your face right now," he laughs. “You look ridiculous."  
  
"Cheers," Louis says, breathing deeply through his nose, and he wonders if this is what it feels like to want him to shut up. “Now you know what a twat you look like when you’re getting sucked off."  
  
Mark I is less cautious than Louis’d thought he’d be - less cautious than he’d been - but it makes sense, since Mark I knows exactly how he likes to be teased and licked and sucked. Or, at least, how he did when he was nineteen. He doesn’t bother with being quiet as Mark I strokes him slowly, mouthing at the head of his cock and lapping his tongue relentlessly over his slit; Mark I deserves to know he’s doing everything right for Louis, for them. He moans appreciatively and praises his own mouth, his own tongue, babbling as he balls his hands into fists and opens them, then again, and again.

"Fuck," he says, blinking up at the ceiling, “this is like my worst nightmare - I’m gonna go off in, like, a minute." Mark I makes a whimper around him that is very familiar, and, well, yes. Louis knew he’d like this, too. “Here," he says suddenly, reaching for Mark I’s free hand, and brings it down between them, beneath his balls, pushing their fingers together clumsily into his taint. He’s grown to like a few more things, since this, and if he’s going to get off, he’s already in for a penny. “Could you— like this," he chokes out, his thighs already straining, wanting to pull up and squeeze them around Mark I’s head and really let him get in there, let him lick him open while he comes, but that’s not going to happen today. He just drags Mark I’s index finger down until it brushes his hole, and breathes, holds it there as Mark I slows in his sucking, then pulls off his cock with a gasp.  
  
"Oh, my god," Mark I says, and his voice is thick, throaty with arousal. “Oh, my  _god_ , have you—"  
  
"Just," Louis shakes his head, rocking his hips up so his cock bumps Mark I’s stubbled chin. He lets go of Mark I’s hand and holds on to his biceps with them instead. His arms are so  _thin_ ; he was so  _proud_  of them, had worked so hard on them, Louis remembers that. “I’m almost there, could you just—"  
  
"Bloody hell," Mark I says, and mouths over Louis’ cock again, the hand he’s holding Louis’ dick in gone slack with distraction, but his finger presses up against Louis’ hole and then circles, and Louis knees him in the chest when he comes. He groans as he feels himself spurting into Mark I’s mouth, and Mark I swallows, keeping his lips closed around him without sucking - just letting him stay there - for a while after, the way Louis always wishes his partners would but always forgets to ask, in the heat of the moment. Mark I finally releases him from his mouth, and Louis releases his grip on Mark I in turn, struggling to sit back up while he woozily composes himself.  
  
"That was," Louis says, blinking the room back into focus. “That was, you should do that, you’re great at that."  
  
"Jesus," Mark I says, and Louis sees that Mark I has already split open his own flies, leaking a damp spot through the cotton of his pants where he’s so hard he’s squirming with it. “I want— that," Mark I goes on in a tight voice, slightly hoarse. “I’ll come too quick, but I want you to—"  
  
"Yeah, come here," says Louis, and kisses Mark I again, tasting himself on himself. He slides his fingers through Mark I’s hair and grips it before letting go, just to hear the whine in the back of Mark I’s throat. He might as well learn he’ll like that, too. Louis eases Mark I back onto the bed as he tries to work him down from the edge of orgasm, from the gulping breaths he’s taking just from the thought of being blown, of a finger teasing his arsehole. Mark I sounds just like him, but distant, infused with all this wonder, and Louis forgets sometimes just how new these things are, how he was this boy not at all that long ago. Louis places his palm high up on the hairless part of Mark I’s stomach and studies the contrast of them for another moment, then hooks his fingers in Mark I’s waistband and pulls it down to let his cock spring free.  
  
He strokes Mark I slowly to start, ignoring the way Mark I kicks his legs restlessly, drawing them up and down again as he tries to push up into Louis’ hand. “You like this," he mutters, looking down into Mark I’s flushed face; Mark I’s lower lip is bitten white between his teeth and he juts his chin out as if to say no, but Louis runs his thumb over the tip of his cock and it comes away wet, because he knows this. He knows Mark I’s cock and what will get him off more than Mark I has any idea. Nobody’s teased Mark I like this before now, and Mark I will dream about this - as Louis did - and now he’ll know that it’s a thing he wants, too. Now he’ll ask.

So he teases Mark I, prods him along and gets him wet and Mark I was right, it’s not long at all until he’s clawing at Louis’ forearms, panting again, legs shaking where they’re still caught in his trousers, from the tension of being held at the brink. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come," Mark I whines, the words tumbling out of him, “please,  _please_ , don’t make me come before you—"  
  
"Yeah," Louis mutters, sitting back enough to get Mark I’s cock in his other hand so that he can reach back below his balls and press a firm finger to his taint, trail it down to touch his hole. Mark I makes a high, strangled noise in his throat and Louis had entertained thoughts of sucking him, still, but he feels Mark I’s hole tighten against his finger and that’s it; with a twitch, his cock unloads, shooting over his chest to catch his collarbone, then his sternum, dribbling until it sluggishly drools over Louis’ knuckles.  
  
"Oh, my god," Mark I says. “Oh, my god, I can’t—" he throws his arm over his face, but continues to rock up into Louis’ hand where he holds his cock gently. Louis pats him on the hip.  
  
"You will," he says. He knows for a fact that Mark I has never come so hard in his life. He’s a little envious, if he’s honest.  
  
"Come cuddle," Mark I says, and he seems to have found his voice again, because there’s an imperious air to him, even as he peeks at Louis from under his arm.  
  
Louis smiles down at him. “You know I love a good cuddle," he says, letting himself fall forward on top of Mark I so that he feels Louis’ full weight, fifteen extra pounds of beer and muscle mass and shitty tour food and slowed metabolism.  
  
"Harry is not gonna believe me when I tell him," Mark I mutters, and Louis just laughs, holds him closer.

 

 

end.


End file.
